Page 96 of Angel's Kiss
“He’s keeping her prisoner!” Raoul shouted back, the new information threatening to split his aching skull. “And how can Valerius not be concerned about what sort of peril Christine could be in!”
“Peril?” Philippe laughed again. “She’s not in peril! She’s in some villain’s bed!”
“Monsieur le Vicomte, a note for you.” Raoul looked up at the footman standing at his door and blushed. The help didn’t need to be present for this.
“It couldn’t wait?” Raoul snapped, snatching the letter from the silver tray.
“The messenger gave the impression it was urgent. And Monsieur le Comte told me—”
“Never mind that,” Philippe blustered as the footman left with a sidelong glance. “Who’s writing to you? I was under the impression you’d only been associating with illiterates this past week.”
Raoul stared at the note in his hand, reading and rereading the brief missive. “It says Christine has been seen taking the night air at the Bois, riding in a Brougham on the Longchamps raceway.”
“That’s oddly specific. Who would write you this?” Philippe grabbed the note from Raoul and looked it over. “It’s not even signed.”
“It says she may be there tonight! The fiend who has her will be with her, I know it!”
“You can’t seriously be considering this! Raoul, this is a prank of some sort!” Philippe truly did look concerned, and Raoul wanted to reassure him, but how could he? How could he explain what he knew in his soul? He had to call this ‘angel of music’ to account.
“I’m going to find the truth, Philippe. I have to if I’m going to leave Paris with a clear conscience.”
“Or you could not leave Paris at all and find a woman worthy of you who isn’t a half-breed gypsy with the heart and morals of a courtesan. Have you considered that?”
Raoul answered by walking past his brother into the hall. It was nearly supper. He needed to get to the Bois immediately if he was to station himself somewhere with an advantageous position. Where was his good coat?
“When you get your heart broken again tonight, do know I’ll spend all of tomorrow telling you ‘I told you so’ while you weep in my lap!” Philippe yelled from above as Raoul descended the stairs. He didn’t care. He was full of hope for the first time in a week. He would not let it go.
––––––––
The crisp night airof theBois de Boulognewas like a balm against Christine’s cheeks. She hadn’t realized until she had opened the window of their brougham and breathed the free air, thick with the scent of living things and wet earth, that she had needed it this much. Erik’s world was one of dreams and illusion, of music and magic, and she was glad to escape into it from the intrigue of the Opera and the hurt she had caused there. But there was a different kind of freedom in just the illusion of being away from the city and its walls of stone and harsh lights.
“Do you like it?” Erik asked from where he sat beside her, remaining concealed in the seat beside her from the full moon above.
“It’s wonderful. Thank you for taking me,” Christine sighed. “And for the transportation. I imagine you don’t usually employ cabs.”
“You would be correct,” Erik said warmly. “But a proper lady deserves something more civilized than traipsing through the sewers for a cold walk in the woods.”
“I don’t know if I’m a proper lady, but I do appreciate the luxury,” Christine replied. It had been a shock to find their waiting cab when Erik had led her up to the side of the Opera. She had no idea how he had managed it. So many things he did truly were like magic or miracles. Such as the way he had made her feel safe and healed in the recent days, even when the world was chaos and consequences around them. “I imagine it’s even more beautiful in spring,” Christine mused, imagining the trees heavy with pink and white blooms against a blue sky while children laughed in the distance.
“I’m not sure. I like it in the winter,” Erik replied. “You can view the stars and moon better through the trees. Would you like to see?”
“You mean walk through a park at night with a strange man?” she replied with a playful smile. “I would like that very much.”
Erik rapped on the side of the brougham, and the cab rumbled to a stop. With the utmost speed and grace, he sprang out, holding his hand for Christine like the perfect gentleman to help her down to the ground.
“You look beautiful in the moonlight.” Christine was surprised he could still make her blush. He offered her his arm and she took it with a quiet chuckle. If the sun had been out, it would indeed be a completely normal outing.
“I’ve read that in New York City they’ve set aside a huge park in the center of the metropolis; to be a natural space forever, for the benefit of the whole city. It must be quite a thing to see,” Erik mused as they walked, leaving the brougham and their driver behind.
“Indeed. Have you ever considered visiting America? Since you have been everywhere else?” Christine imagined Erik on a long sea voyage across the Atlantic. He would probably read the entire time and not mind at all being so close to so many people if he could stay shut away. It would be bearable for both of them.
“I have heard that there are still wild places there that are larger than the whole of France,” Erik replied with a dreamy sigh. “Where men can get lost for months, fortunes can be made. New lives can be begun by anyone, or so their myth says. I’m not sure how true that is for someone who doesn’t fit in. But it would be quite a thing to see. Alas.”
“Alas?” Christine furrowed her brow and pulled at Erik’s elbow so he looked at her.
“I don’t think I will ever leave Paris again. Or the Opera,” Erik said plainly. As if it was obvious. Christine didn’t want that to be true. Since she had burned his deadly lasso, it felt like so much more was possible for them.
“Not even with the right companion?” Erik stopped in his tracks as she said it, and Christine bit her lip.
